


Pesadillas

by Sinelaborenihil



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29734818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinelaborenihil/pseuds/Sinelaborenihil
Summary: Zevran has a nightmare that throws into stark relief for him his feelings for the Gray Warden Indira Surana.Based on the Dragon Age Sub-Reddit writing prompt: Love Interest talks in their sleep during a nightmare that leaves them thrashing
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Surana
Kudos: 17





	Pesadillas

**Author's Note:**

> Pesadillas - Spanish for "Nightmares"
> 
> I might add more nightmares from other characters as time allows, but Zev was the one that came to me this morning.

_Zevran strode back into the opulent front room of the current base for the Antivan Crows. The location changed every few weeks, but in some ways it remained exactly the same. It was always beautiful. Always extremely functional. Always deadly._  


_“Zevran! You’ve returned!”_  


_Zevran turned at Taliesen’s voice and smiled at the other man, inclining his head. “I have indeed, tesoro.”_  


_“The Gray Wardens are dead, then?” Taliesen asked, sweeping him into an embrace and kissing his cheek._  


_“Por supuesto,” Zevran scoffed with a cocky smile. “Of course.”_  


_Taliesen smiled back and immediately Zevran knew something was wrong. He knew Taliesen. There was a coldness in the other man’s eyes that normally did not exist between them. That fraction of a second was enough for him to go for the daggers at his waist, but it wasn’t enough._  


_Several pairs of hands closed on him in an instant and though Zevran struggled, he was not a match for all of them at once._  


_With speed that was breathtaking, he found himself dragged down to the dungeons. He knew what waited for him there: the rack. Desperately he tried to slow his breathing. He had faced torture before as a part of his training. His threshold for pain was very, very high._  


_“It is bad enough that you betrayed us, Zevran,” Taliesen said companionably, as he turned the first of several heavy locks on the dungeon door. “But to lie about it also? Better to own up to what a disloyal snake you are than to pretend otherwise.”_  


_“My friend,” Zevran said as Taliesen turned the final lock. “I do not know what you are talking about. Surely this is a mistake.”_  


_Taliesen shook his head, his hand on the handle of the door as he gave Zevran a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I know that you are lying, Zevran,” he said in a low, deadly voice. “Because if you had killed the Gray Wardens, I would not have been able to introduce them to our old friend.”_  


_He swung the door open and Zevran’s heart stopped. Alistair was slumped on the floor, clearly dead, his youthful face frozen in a rictus of agony. Zevran felt a bolt of guilt and regret lance through him. Alistair was supposed to become king, to end the fractious scrabbling for power and restore peace to Ferelden. That had been Indira’s dream._  


_Indira._  


_Zevran could scarcely bring himself to raise his eyes, for he knew what he would surely see._  


_“Zevran?”_  


_Her voice, her lovely voice that usually filled him with such warmth poured over him like a bucket of ice water. He forced himself to look -- surely he owed her that -- and saw to his great horror that she was strapped to the rack. Her lovely eyes were wide with terror and he could see from the sheen of sweat on her body that they had already begun to torture her._  


_“Taliesen-”_  


_Zevran found himself knocked to the floor, heavy boots striking his ribs over and over as his former brother-in-arms watched dispassionately. Several ribs were broken by the time he was hauled to his feet. “You have failed the Crows,” Taliesen spat at him. “Leaving me to clean up after you. All over a woman, Zevran. I thought you had learned your lesson with Rinna.” Taliesen crossed his arms as Zevran struggled to get free. He could not let them harm his beloved any further. But his struggle only made the hands on him tighten further and then, to his horror, Taliesen pulled out his heavy dagger that glistened with poison and held it to Indira’s throat._  


_Zevran’s heart broke at her soft little gasp of fear._  


_“You have a choice to make, brother,” Taliesen spat. “You may allow the Gray Warden to take your place on the rack, where we will make her death slow. When she is dead, you will be dispatched quickly. Painlessly.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or, you may take her place upon it. Your death will be slow, Zevran. I will make sure that you experience every horror that I know how to inflict before I finally allow you to slip away.” His eyes cut to Indira. “But when you are dead, I will give her the quick, painless death.” He shrugged. "It is up to you."_  


_“I will take her place,” Zevran said, because the thought of his beloved facing such horrors was worse than anything he could imagine._  


_“No!” Indira said, because of course she did. It was part of why he had fallen in love with her. Her bravery. Her selflessness._  


_He had never thought himself capable of the same, but as his wrists and ankles were bound to the hated machine, he found himself wondering if that was one more way she had changed him._  


_“Zevran!” she screamed somewhere in the distance as Taliesen began to turn the heavy winch that operated the machine. “Let him go, you bastards!”_  


_“It’s all right, amora,” Zevran managed to gasp as his shoulders creaked and the familiar agony sank into his joints. “It is all right.”_  


_But then, to his great horror, the motion of the machine stopped._  


_“You really are a pathetic sucker for a pretty face,” Taliesen said, motioning for his men to take hold of Indira. He looked at her, his lip curling, and Zevran realized that he had made a critical mistake. He had forgotten Taliesen’s jealousy when it came to things he regarded as his own._  


_Things like Zevran._  


_“Taliesen, we had an agreement-”_  


_“Her death will be fast,” Taliesen said, motioning to the door. “It will just not occur for many more years. And when it does, she will not care.”_  


_A templar stepped through holding a glowing brand with what Zevran recognized as the Chantry sunburst. It took him a moment to understand, but when he heard Indira gasp and saw her begin to struggle he realized._  


_They were going to make her Tranquil._  


_Indira’s magic was as much a part of her as her cedar-colored skin, or her biting wit. Tranquility was the thing she feared above all others._  


_“No!” Zevran protested as the other crows held her down as the Templar approached, intoning the words of the Rite. He thrashed in his bonds, ignoring the agony in his shoulders. “NO! INDIRA! You must fight, corazón!”_  


_He turned to Taliesen. “Please!” he begged. “Do not do this!”_  


_Indira began to scream then and Zevran smelled the unmistakable odor of burning flesh._  


_“INDIRA!” he screamed, struggling desperately. He had to save her, as she had saved him. He had to. “INDIRA! FIGHT, CORAZÓN! INDIRA!”_

“Zevran?”  


A hand touched his shoulder and Zevran lashed out, grabbing his assailant and yanking them to the ground with a snarl. His dagger was in his hand as he prepared to fight his way to Indira, which all would have been very well and dashing had it not been she that he was pinning to the ground.  


“Mierda!” Zevran hissed, instantly sheathing his blade and letting Indira up. He flushed to his ears with shame. “I apologize, hermosa,” he rasped, frantically looking her over in search of any injury. “Are you all right? I did not hurt you, did I?”  


She raised a dark eyebrow, giving him a wry smile. “My dignity, maybe,” she said easily, though he could plainly see the worry in her eyes. “For all our sparring, you still took me down while you were half asleep. I am a poor credit to my teacher.” She cocked her head, her brow furrowing. “Are you all right?” she asked softly. “I’m sorry to barge in,” she added hastily. “I...I heard you thrashing and then you yelled my name and I thought that maybe my healing hadn’t taken or something.”  


Zevran forced himself to breathe and shook his head. He found himself reaching for her hand, feeling warmth bloom in him when she laced her fingers through his. He had been flirting with her for weeks, but they had only recently lain together for the first time.  


And yet, the truth that Zevran had been pushing away within his own head and heart had surged to the surface like a kraken in an old mariner’s tales while he had been dreaming.  


Somewhere in the past several months, Zevran had, despite his best efforts, fallen in love with the lovely Gray Warden.  


His Gray Warden.  


He met her eyes, his heart filling at the concern he saw reflected back at him. “I had a nightmare,” he found himself saying, the truth sticking in his throat in a way that lies never did.  


“I’m sorry,” Indira said, squeezing his fingers gently.  


He shrugged and winced immediately. They’d had a scrap with a band of darkspawn before they’d made camp and a Hurlock Alpha had gotten the jump on him. He’d waved off Indira’s healing earlier, not wanting to be a bother. He wasn’t wounded, exactly, just sore.  


“Come here,” Indira commanded, sitting down and motioning for him to do the same.  


He knew better than to argue and heard himself let out a little sigh of relief when she placed her hands on his shoulders. He felt the gentle warmth of her healing magic as she encouraged the knots in the muscles to release, and to his horror he felt his throat tighten.  


“You can tell me about it, if you want to,” she said.  


“I would not burden you,” he managed to rasp as he realized with some panic that he _wanted_ to tell her.  


“It’s not a burden if I ask,” she said and he didn’t have to look at her to know the lovely smile on her face.  


She was so beautiful.  


He did not deserve her friendship, let alone anything else. He was a weapon. A tool of death. He did not deserve a gentle hand or whispered kindness.  


“Zevran?” she pressed gently. “If nothing else, you could tell me who this ‘Corazón’ I’m supposed to fight is. Some specialty of Antivan Crow or-”  


“It means ‘heart’,” Zevran heard himself say. “Mine, specifically.” _Zevran, you great fool,_ he cursed himself.  


He heard her quiet intake of air and looked up to find her staring at him with wide eyes. “Your...your heart?” she whispered.  


Zevran nodded and squared his shoulders, amazed as always by how quickly her healing worked. “I dreamed that I returned to the Crows,” he said without preamble, because what was the use of lying now? She would have him, or she would not. And if she would not...well, he was contracted to do a job. If the Creators had any sort of mercy, she would still allow him to stay once he finished making an ass of himself. “To find that you had been captured. I was offered a choice: let them torture you in exchange for a quick death for myself, or allow my former brothers to torture me to ensure you a painless end.” He raised his chin, meeting and holding her eyes. “I chose the latter, of course.”  


“Zevran,” she said.  


“Please let me finish,” Zevran said. “Or I fear I shall not be able.”  


Indira subsided with a nod.  


“They were planning on making you Tranquil,” he said, hating the flash of fear he saw in her eyes. “That is why I was screaming, hermosa. I know that is _your_ great nightmare.”  


She winced, squeezing his hand. “Zevran, I promise we won’t let them get you,” she said and in her eyes he saw the core of steel that it was so easy to forget lived beneath all of her kindness. The fear was there as well, the fear of Tranquility and losing all that she was.  


“I would _never_ allow anyone to do that to you,” he swore to her. “No matter the cost to myself. I cannot imagine seeing you so...extinguished.”  


“Zev,” she whispered, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “Thank you,” she said against his lips.  


He nodded, pulling her down with him onto his bedroll and holding her flush against himself and trailing his fingers up and down her back. There was a word that he knew he should say to her. But it stuck in his throat. They still had to find the Urn of Sacred ashes to restore Arl Eamon to health. There was so much work yet to be done. He had time. Still, he had to tell her some portion of it. He _had_ to let her know that she was more to him than a bed partner.  


“You are dear to me,” he said and blushed at the plainness of it.  


She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him, her amber eyes luminous in the low lamp light. Her full lips were curled into a smile as she reached down and caressed his cheek, her warm fingertips following his tattoos. “You are to me too,” she said. She blushed very prettily. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”  


“Nor I,” he rasped, pulling her down for a kiss that began sweet but rapidly escalated until they were both naked and breathing heavily. Indira smiled down at him from her position straddling him and Zevran could not help but grin back at her as she slowly eased herself down on him. There was a tenderness to their lovemaking that stole his breath, and when they were at last sated he found himself clutching her to himself as though she was going to be taken away at any moment.  


“Do you mind if I stay?” she asked sleepily, snuggling against his chest. “Love being in your arms.”  


Zevran rested his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes. “I would not have it any other way,” he admitted.  


Indira made a happy little sound and kissed the underside of his jaw. “Sweet dreams,” she said and he could hear the smile on her face.  


“Sweet dreams, amora,” he said, but Indira was already snoring. He pressed his lips to the top of her head as he closed his eyes. _Te amo,_ he thought, allowing the word to exist in his own mind, if not aloud. _I will tell you soon. Lo prometo._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
